William Rowan—Pioneer of Photoperiodism. 3. The horrific death of a schoolboy entomologist

Oak Eggar Moth Lasiocampa quercus
It will become obvious on reading this article why a
photograph of this species is an appropriate one to
remember the subject
From Wikipedia ©Entomart

While William Rowan was looking for a way to make a zoological living he worked a schoolmaster, latterly for a school year at Bedales in 1918-19.

Marianne Ainley in her biography wrote that Rowan arrived at Bedales School in Hampshire on 19 September 1918. She found in Rowan’s notes an account of the tragic death of a boy at the school:

…He liked all his colleagues and many of his pupils. He felt a special affinity for Woolacott, one of the big boys, a clever, reserved lad, keen on natural history, who had already published notes in the Entomologist. The two spent much time together, and from their discussions Rowan found the boy was practically a misogynist. This, he noted, "seems unnatural and calls for a deeper explanation.” Because of his busy schedule, however, Rowan had to postpone investigating the causes of the boy's attitude.
     Understandably, Rowan was distressed when, a few weeks later, Woolacott informed him he would probably be expelled. Rowan promptly arranged to see the headmaster [John Haden Badley who had, with his wife, founded the school] to intercede on Woolacott's behalf, but was too late. Woolacott shot himself that afternoon. Rowan blamed himself for not getting to the root of the boy's problem, and was most deeply touched to find that Woolacott had left a pile of beautifully made entomological slides, representing many hours of careful work, on Rowan’s desk.

Who was this budding entomologist, Woolacott? And what did reports of his death have to say?

First though it is worth pointing out that Bedales was a rare example at the time of a co-educational secondary school and I take it that the ‘misogyny’ on the part of Woolacott, was related to the presence of female pupils at the school and, perhaps, somewhat of a tradition of the boys who had objected to the presence of girls when they first appeared on the scene some years earlier.

It must also be borne in mind that the tragedy occurred on 4 November 1918, only six weeks after Rowan’s arrival. He had clearly got to know the boy’s interest in the natural world but had not had time to understand much of Woolacott’s past.

The Hampshire Telegraph of Friday 8 November had a short account of the coroner’s inquest held the day before.

STUDENT OF 17 SHOT DEAD.

     A shocking tragedy occurred at Bedales School, Petersfield, on Monday afternoon, when a student named Harold Kingsley Woolacott, aged 17, was found dead in a dormitory with a bullet wound in his temple.
     It appears that the deceased lad was about to leave the school, and on going to pack up his clothes we given a small rifle, which the Matron had been keeping for him for about two years. Shortly afterwards he was found as described with the rifle at his feet. Dr. Brownfield was summoned, but could only pronounce life extinct.
     At an inquest yesterday afternoon a verdict of "Suicide whilst temporary insane" was returned...

The school magazine, the Bedales Record for 1918-19 also had an account:

The term was saddened by the death of Woolacott, as told on a later page. He was buried in Steep Churchyard, where now lie several of our boys, the coffin being carried by his fellow prefects and followed by his schoolfellows.

H. K. Woolacott joined the School in 1916 at a later age than most. He was a quiet introspective boy, given to melancholy moods, which were deepened by the absence of his parents in India and by the war. He would normally have left the School last Summer to begin his military service, but asked to stay on another term in order to be a prefect and try to do more for the School than he had done. But he did not prove strong enough to be in so responsible a position, and at the beginning of November it was decided, with his own concurrence, that he should leave then and begin his training at once. While packing his things, amongst them a miniature rifle which, like many others, he had brought here for practice on the range, and for which, unknown to us, he had some cartridges of his own, he must, in a moment's impulse, have shot himself through the head; when found, a few moments later, he was past all help. At the inquest neither the evidence nor his own diary could throw any light upon the motive, other than the boy's strange nature and his sense of failure at School, and no kind of blame was felt to attach to anyone else.

I would suggest that Rowan’s more succinct explanation for Woolacott’s departure from the school is the correct interpretation; he was being expelled and thus required to join the army seven days, as it happened, before the Armistice of 11 January.

Harold Kingsley Woolacott had indeed had notes published in The Entomologist. I have found two, both in the January 1918 edition.

In the early decades of the 20th century amateur entomology and especially lepidoptery was in its heyday.
Lasiocampa quercus is the Oak Eggar Moth. Melitaea aurinia, the Marsh Fritillary Butterffly, is now Euphydryas aurinia. Phragmatobia fuliginosa is the Ruby Tiger moth. Macrothylacia rubi is the Fox Moth. Manulea lurideola is the Common Footman Moth

As mentioned by the report in the school magazine Harold Woolacott’s parents were in India. He was born in Brixton, London in 1901 to John Evans Woolacott and his second wife, Angiolina Maria Emily Seneca. John Evans Woolacott (1861-1936) is described on his Wikpedia page as journalist, newspaper editor and political activist who worked first in London for the Central News Agency as lobby correspondent and then in Ireland, Morocco and Egypt. in 1895 he stood, unsuccessfully, for parliament as a member of the Independent Labour Party in the Rollox Division of Glasgow. During the 1890s he worked on The Democrat and was assistant editor of the Weekly Dispatch. His first wife died and he married Angiolina Seneca in 1897; he was 34 and she was 21. By 1903 he was assistant editor of The Economist. In 1908 he was elected president of the Institute of Journalists but then left for India where he was assistant editor of The Statesman in Calcutta. 1913 saw him as editor of the Bombay Gazette. That publication soon closed and he returned to UK. He swapped political allegiance being adopted as a prospective parliamentary candidate for the Liberal Party but because of the outbreak of war no general election was held. Woolacott returned to India in 1916 (the year his son was sent to Bedales) working for The Pioneer in Allahabad and as a correspondent for The Times of London. By the time he had returned to UK in 1925 his politics had changed again, writing books opposed to political change in India. In 1929 he was appointed editor of The Bioscope, a weekly magazine devoted to the cinema. John Evans Wollacott died in Surrey in 1936.

Harold Woolacott’s mother, Angiolina, was the daughter of Alfonso and Eliza Seneca. Alfonso Seneca was Italian, a professional singer who appears in the local London newspapers of 1877 and 1878 performing regularly and frequently in concerts. Alfonso died in 1880. As far as I can see from the records John and Angiolina had no other children. Angiolina died in Surrey in 1934.

I have been able to find nothing else about the unhappy and clearly disturbed Harold Kinglsey Woolacott. I do not know if he ever accompanied his parents to India. It is clear that he entered Bedales when his parents left UK for the second time but where had he been educated until then? It was the norm for children of parents in India to either send or leave their children in UK when they were seven. The only clue as to young Woolacott’s location at any time is the address given in one of the articles in The Entomologist; in the summer of 1917 he was in St Merryn in Cornwall.

I have found a family tree online which includes a brother and sisters of John Evans Woolacott but not including John Evans himself. I do not know if Harold would have been in touch with members of his extended family while his parents were in India.

Harold Kingsley Woolacott’s tombstone can be found in the graveyard of All Saints in the village of  Steep, near Petersfield. Reading his notes to The Entomologist I suspect the budding entomologist was a young scientist in the making. I can see why William Rowan, fondly remembered for his teaching and encouragement of birdwatching and photography in the school, was so upset by Woolacott’s utterly tragic death 106 years ago today.

Gravestone of
Harold Kingsley Woolacott
from findagrave.com

Ainley MG. 1993. Restless Energy. A Biography of William Rowan 1891-1957. Montreal: Véhicule Press.

Pheasant-tailed Jacana in Hong Kong

 

AJP spotted this Pheasant-tailed Jacana (Hydrophasianus chirurgas) at Nam Sang Wai two weeks ago, his third ever. It is classed as an uncommon migrant and rare winter visitor.  This is in non-breeding plumage, a time of year when the long pheasant-type tail is absent. The only migratory jacana they occur from Yemen in the west to the Philippines in the east.

British Journal of Herpetology (1948-1985). All issues available online with free access

I was delighted to see that the British Herpetological Society now has all issues of British Journal of Herpetology available with free access on its website. This is exactly the way a proper learned society should act and is in marked contrast to commercial scientific journal publishers and some scientific societies who know no better than to exist as parasites on the acquisition and dissemination of knowledge.

British Journal of Herpetology was launched by the newly formed society in 1948 and ran under that title until shortly after I handed over the editorship of the journal to Trevor Beebee in 1985. The change of title—to Herpetological Journal—had as I recall two aims: to ensure that the coverage was not just perceived as British amphibians and reptiles; submissions were not restricted to authors in Britain.

Access to the papers published in BJH had never been easy because the Society had relatively few sales to libraries. The journal was distributed to members but from the early years I suspect few copies have survived.

Apart from those wishing to consult the papers themselves, the additional material, the early membership list, for example, provides a fascinating insight into the development of interest in reptiles and amphibians in Britain and into what a good job those who founded the Society did in attracting members from such a wide range of backgrounds and interests—a topic I will return to in future articles.

A Snipe but not a Common Snipe in Hong Kong

 

AJP spotted this snipe at Nam Sang Wai last week. It is either, as confirmed by that very co-operative underwing view, a Pin-tailed Sbnipe (Gallinago stenura) or a Swinhoe’s Snipe (G. megala). Unfortunately, only with a bird in the hand and the tail feathers spread is it possible to tell t’other from which. Both are passage migrants in Hong Kong. The Pin-tailed breeds in Russia and Mongolia and winters from India to northern Australia. Swinhoe’s breeds in central Asia, Mongolia and Russia and winters across southern Asia to Australasia.

Salt Glands Revisited. 2. We should have mentioned the other glands that drain into the nose

Fifty years ago the late Jim Linzell and I were writing our monograph, Salt Glands in Birds and Reptiles, for the Physiological Society's Monograph Series; it was published in May 1975. In this series I revisit some of the topics and people who followed up the discovery of salt glands in birds by Knut Schmidt-Nielsen.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

One problem with writing a book 50 years ago was that the copy that arrives in the reader’s hands has a sense of finality. Last thoughts, changes of mind or new evidence can only be passed on by producing a new edition some tears later or covering the same ground in an invited review. That problem, although still present, is lessened by having a website covering a particular publication that can be amended accordingly.

One point we forgot to mention when we wrote Salt Glands in Birds and Reptiles was the possibility that secretion from other glands could perhaps be mistaken for secretion from the nasal salt glands of birds. Small drops or dampness seen within the nostril in response to cholinergic drugs or during periods of excitement could be interpreted as a sign of the salt gland being activated at a low rate or for a brief period. However there remains the possibility, particularly if the secretion that appeared was not analysed, that the small amounts could arise from other glands in the head, the secretions from which can find their way to the nostrils.

The Harderian gland is a relatively large gland that sits behind the eyeball. It is particularly associated with tetrapods which have a nictitating membrane. A number of functions of its secretion have been described or postulated including, of course, lubrication and protection, including immunoprotection, of the eye. In short, it is a second source of tears, alongside the lachrymal gland which in birds is very small. Just as when we cry, tears appear not only from the eye itself but also pass down the nasolacrimal duct to the nose; sniffling and lachrymosity go together.

We reproduced this drawing in Salt Glands in Birds and Reptiles
I have added colouring to show the nasal salt gland and the Harderian Gland

There is no indication that in birds with a nasal salt gland that the Harderian gland plays any part in removing excess salt. In geese, for example, we found no evidence for any increase in blood flow through the Harderian gland. By contrast, salt gland blood flow increased increased up to 26-fold when secretion was activated by a salt load. However, there is one intriguing report in the literature that the Harderian gland might be doing something in relation to salt and water balance in some birds.

In 1968 the late Maryanne Robinson Hughes and Frank E Ruch of the University of British Columbia noticed that in domestic ducks kept on sea water the feathers between the beak and the eye were wet and contained depressions which were filled with a clear fluid. Analysis of the fluid showed the sodium concentration to be similar to that of blood plasma. However the potassium concentration was much higher than that in plasma. Moreover, the potassium concentration increased with higher salinities up to full strength sea water, the main rising occurring when the salinity of the water exceeded that of plasma. No such effect was seen in gulls and the suggestion was that ducks living on sea water are at a precarious state of salt and water balance compared with gulls which can cope with the salinity of sea water much more readily. Although the source of the potassium-rich tears was not identified, the Harderian gland is the most likely since since the lachrymal glands are tiny, only one hundred of the weight of the Harderian glands.

Pertinent to the point of this article is that it was impossible to determine just how much potassium the Harderian glands were secreting in the ducks since tears could be passing down the nasolacrimal duct. However, they did find a band of smooth muscle around the opening of this duct which they suggested could act as a sphincter regulating the passage of tears from the eye by that route.

If only we had mentioned it at the time I would not have needed to write this article 50 years later.

Fänge R, Schmidt-Nielsen K, Robinson M. 1958. Control of secretion from the avian salt gland. American Journal of Physiology 195, 321-326.

Hughes MR, Ruch FE. 1969. Sodium and potassium in spontaneously produced salt-gland secretion and tears of ducks, Anas platyrhynchos, acclimated to fresh and saline waters. Canadian Journal of Zoology 47, 1133-1138.

Peaker M, Linzell JL. 1975. Salt Glands in Birds and Reptiles. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

William Rowan—Pioneer of Photoperiodism. 2. The Biography

I have enjoyed reading the late Marianne Gosztonyi Ainley’s (1937-2008) account of William Rowan’s life, from its beginning, in 1891 at Basel in Switzerland, as the son of a railway engineer from Northern Ireland and a Danish mother, to the end, in 1957, at home alone in Edmonton, Alberta.

Marianne Ainley covered all aspects of Rowan’s life in detail. Since there is available online what is essentially a précis of her 378 page book I will not repeat the basic information other than to say that Rowan had become obsessed with the idea of getting to western Canada while at Bedford School. He was inspired to travel, study, draw and photograph the wildlife, by visits to the school by Richard Kearton, showing his brother Cherry’s photographs of birds, and by Ernest Thompson Seton who talked about the large mammals of Canada and the USA. Rowan’s widowed mother held and the pursestrings and was eventually persuaded and she arranged for him to be a ranch pupil with a British family in Alberta. Thus Rowan was in Alberta for a first time in 1908, to the less than comfortable world of a ranch pupil but travelling first class on his mother’s insistence. He returned to Britain in 1910 where he crammed for matriculation to London university. He then returned to Canada, doing the odd job in Winnipeg while roaming and photographing the country and its wildlife. He was persuaded both by friends in Canada and family to take the place at University College London; he then had to find his own fare for the voyage.

The Dark-eyed Junco (Junco hyemalis) was one of two
species used in early experiments on varying daylength*

Thus began Rowan’s the zoological career but in describing it Ainley left a number of unanswered questions while missing clues that could have led to explanations of events. Some of Ainley’s interpretations are amusingly wrong while others are completely out of touch with life, the university scene or science in the early years of the 20th century. On a general note I often find accounts written by historians of science to be unsatisfactory simple because those historians have not been steeped in the discipline or of how practitioners within that discipline lived and operated. Similarly, conventions of the time are often judged through the lens of the present. Thus it was not at all strange that Mrs Rowan was left at home to do the housework and look after the children. Nor was it, or is it, odd that Rowan in following his many interests neglected to give his wife and children his full attention. The response of most of my scientific acquaintances to that statement would be, ‘Yes…and?’

Rowan clearly enjoyed studying zoology and botany, particularly the field work involved, while failing intermediate physics twice. He also wrote popular articles and took photographs while a student. With the course uncompleted he, like many of his fellow students, enlisted in the 14th (Reserve)  County of London Battalion of  London Scottish Regiment, a month after the declaration of war with Germany. However, Private Rowan became ill during his first long leave, during which time he returned to the labs at UCL. He had bouts of illness throughout his life. His leave was extended and the army then discharged him as ‘no longer fit physically for war service’. He had served 1 year, 68 days when he returned to civilian life in November 1915. With the family fortunes, which were held mainly in French stocks and shares, declining because of the war, Rowan spent a year in pursuing energetically his interests in natural history, while worrying about getting a job such while considering lecturing and taxidermy as possibilities. In October 1916 he returned to UCL for his much delayed final year. He graduated in 1917 with Third Class Honours, six years after he had begun life as a student.

Although not commenting specifically on the class of his honours degree, Ainley argued that Rowan never really got the hang of doing exams and that Bedford School was more interested in producing sportsmen than learned gentlemen. While later in the century, a ‘third’ would have been a bar to further life in a university, this was clearly not the case at the time.

Rowan spent a over year teaching at Eastby and at Bedales, a public (i.e. for non-British readers, a non-state, fee-paying, private school) school in Hampshire. Then came the offer of several jobs and his acceptance of one of them, assistant in the Department of Zoology at UCL, in effect an assistant lectureship including responsibilities within the departmental museum. He had, however, through a contact, applied for a new post in the University of Manitoba in Winnipeg. Keen to return again to Canada, its wild places and its wildlife, he amassed a great deal of support for his application from leading British zoologists:

[J.P>] Hill stressed Rowan's qualifications in zoology, his wide knowledge of ornithology, his artistic talent, his excellence as a lecturer, and his "driving power and considerable organising ability.” Oliver wrote about Rowan's resourcefulness as a naturalist and his knowledge of bird protection. Dr. P. Chalmers Mitchell, secretary of the Zoological Society of London, praised Rowan's aptitude for fieldwork and his capacity for executive work.

He was offered the post in Winnipeg and therefore had to resign from the UCL job before he had started.

A month before he left for Canada in October 1919, Rowan married Reta Guenever Mary Bush whom he had met while she was an art student at the Slade. From their arrival in Quebec, they made their way to Winnipeg. After a short time in Winnipeg, Rowan was recruited to the University of Alberta by Tory. The pay was better with a promise of a chair in the offing.

Rowan’s work on the importance of changing daylength as the trigger for migration was done on a shoestring and his ‘Restless Energy’, the title of Ainley’s biography, meant that had had lots of other activities in hand, often out in the wilds of western Canada, in addition to starting a department from scratch including gathering and preparing specimens and posters. He worked at home, in the lab (such as it was) and in the field for virtually every hour of every day. However, it is obvious that he seemed unable to prioritise, leaving his daylength experiment to a helper over a crucial period, for example.

His friends in UK to whom he complained about Tory’s animus, lack of funding and lack of appreciation of his work in Canada really could not understand why Rowan stayed in Alberta. Indeed after his death Julian Huxley stated that ‘Rowan was one of the best experimental zoologists of the 20th century. But why, with all his talents, did the fool have to bury himself in Alberta?”

The American Crow (Corvus brachyrhynchos) played
a major part in migration experiments in the wild** 

Given his association with Huxley it seems anomalous that he, at one stage in his life, was supporting Lamarckism and hoped that with his crow experiments in which birds were exposed to different daylengths ‘he may be able to adduce some evidence in support of the Lamarckian concept of evolution’.  Although, as Ainley remarked, belief in Lamarck was not unusual amongst confused zoologists of the 1920s, the year the newspapers reported this, 1931, is interesting and Ainley seems to have missed the significance. In 1931 Rowan was persuaded by his friends to apply for the chair of zoology at McGill. He assembled a body of supporters in Britain and the USA. Amongst them was Ernest MacBride, a previous professor of zoology in McGill and now at Imperial College in London. MacBride, as I have recounted here was both an ardent Lamarckian, denying the existence of genes or mutations, and extreme eugenicist. MacBride has been described as Lamarck’s last disciple on earth and it cannot have done Rowan any harm in MacBride’s eyes to be seen as a Lamarckist. However, whether or not Julian Huxley, one of those responsible for the great synthesis of genetics, development and morphology in Darwinian evolution, got to know of Rowan’s statements I do not know. Despite the enormous level of support, Tory managed to kill off any chance of Rowan getting the McGill chair. In Alberta he stayed.

With the level of support given by leading zoologists in Britain and his international reputation, I find it odd that Ainley made no mention of a missing accolade. William Rowan was not a Fellow of the Royal Society. Had he been proposed but not elected? Or had his putative proposers not been able to garner enough support for a proposal to be made?

One might have thought that once the active, local, torment of Tory had disappeared off the scene and that once he finally made it to full professor (1931) he would have had a relatively untroubled existence in Alberta, even if money remained in short supply for his research. However, as he got closer to retirement long-standings members of his own department—whom he had backed relentlessly for advancement and better pay—turned against him; a demonstration of ‘no good turn goes unpunished’.

Given the explosion of interest in the photoperiodic control of reproduction that followed in Rowan’s wake it is noticeable how poorly or insufficiently appreciated in their own countries were some of its most successful scientists, ‘Jock ‘Marshall is one example; Don Farner (1915-1988) another.

By the time of Rowans death in 1957, the world of photoperiodism had moved on to the role of day length in controlling the onset of reproduction, rather than migration, and to the burgeoning field of neuroendocrinology.  Rowan’s work was known about but no longer referred to. For example, in three long reviews of aspects of environmental control of reproduction in birds and the physiological mechanisms responsible for a symposium I organised in 1973, Rowan did not get a mention.

Despite my qualms, some of which I have pointed out, Marianne Ainley made a great contribution to our knowledge of William Rowan. She, herself, had a remarkable life history. Born Marika Veronika Gosztonyi in Budapest in 1937, she  escaped from the Russian tanks advancing to put down the revolution of 1956 by walking along the railway line into Austria. From there she was able to reach an uncle in Sweden. In 1958 she moved to Canada and worked as a technician and research assistant having studied chemistry in Budapest for four years. A keen birdwatcher, she changed tack completely and became a research assistant in the history of science. In that field she obtained an MSc and then a PhD at McGill on the history of ornithology and avian biology in Canada. She was then at Concordia University and finally, as a full professor at the University of Northern British Columbia. She retired in 2002 and died of cancer in 2008.

I leave William Rowan in the words with which Marianne Ainley introduced Restless Energy:

WILLIAM ROWAN has been considered a Renaissance man, a man of integrity, a famous biologist, a flamboyant showman, a challenging teacher, and often a nuisance. His work as a scientist has been highly regarded by biologists all over the world, and his experiments have been covered in numerous zoology textbooks. Who was this scientist? What was he like as a person, a family man, a colleague, a friend? Why was he so well known to contemporary scientists, and why do we still find written references to his scientific work while, apart from anecdotal descriptions about his escapades in the field, little is known about the details of his life?

Convinced that William Rowan was an important subject for a biography, I went to Edmonton in July 1985 to see the environment where he lived and worked; to talk to the people who knew him as friend, teacher, and colleague, and who admired him as a world-renowned scientist, highly respected wildlife artist, and outstanding conservationist. Inevitably, other facets of his character came to light: his integrity, his kindness, his egotism, his unfailing need to criticize mediocrity, his ability to inspire others, his love of beauty and of nature. I learned of his exquisitely designed conservation stamps, Christmas cards, and hand-painted menus; of his great skill as a self-taught sculptor and musician, and as a builder of model sailing boats and a unique single-gauge model railway. I found that he had been well known as a radio personality, and as the man who tried to make crows fly the wrong way. Nearly thirty years after his death, William Rowan was still very much alive in Edmonton, and even those who had never set eyes on him could tell a few choice stories about his escapades. Indeed, as I gradually discovered, Rowan was an unusual individual — a Renaissance man in Alberta.

*https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Dark-eyed_Junco,_Washington_State_02.jpg

** CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=2310490

Ainley MG. 1988. Rowan vs Tory: Conflicting views of scientific research in Canada, 1920-1935. Scientia Canadensis: Canadian Journal of the History of Science, Technology and Medicine 1, 3-21.

Ainley MG. 1993. Restless Energy. A Biography of William Rowan 1891-1957. Montreal: Véhicule Press.

Houston CS. 2009. In Memoriam: Marianne G Ainley, 1937-2008. The Auk 126, 699.

 

William Rowan—Pioneer of Photoperiodism. 1. His persecutor

 It must have been during a lecture at Sheffield that I first heard of William Rowan—the man who established the importance of change in day length in controlling reproduction and migration in animals. From that work in the early decades of the 20th century the science of photoperiodism grew, particularly in birds, the organisms Rowan had worked on. I also learnt that day that Rowan had succeeded under the most difficult of circumstances and that he had been badly treated in Canada where he worked.

Sixty-odd years on I have now read a biography of Rowan published in 1993.

The culprit who treated Rowan badly, even persisting with that animus when Rowan had achieved international fame for his research, was the founding president of the University of Alberta, Henry Marshall Tory (1864-1947), who took it on himself as a mathematician to decree the nature of proper zoological research as wholly laboratory based. He forbade fieldwork—an order Rowan ignored by working in his own time. Tory had been desperate to recruit somebody who could teach biology in 1919. A new medical building and an intake swelled by veterans of the First World War needed a zoology department since just as in Britain at the time, many medical students were unable to study biology at school and an elementary foundation, i.e. remedial, course mirrored that throughout the medical schools of the British Empire.

Henry Marshall Tory

Rowan’s biographer, the late Marianne Gosztonyi Ainley (1937-2008) skewers Tory’s reputation as an academic and research funding organiser and administrator, not only for his personal treatment of Rowan but also his short-sighted motives, his later leadership of what became the National Research Council of Canada and his disdain for the biology.

Born in Nova Scotia, Tory was a graduate of McGill University in maths and physics having begun his course at the age of 22. His mother was intent on her son becoming a Methodist minister and he then obtained a degree in theology, and spent two years in the church. In 1893 he jumped ship and became a lecturer in maths at McGill. To assist the setting up of a new physics department, Tory was sent to Cambridge for two terms to learn how things were done by the big boys. He thus became involved with two departments and worked his way up the academic ladder and doing administrative jobs for the university in setting up outstations, in British Columbia, for example, that in turn, became independent institutions.

In 1905, the new province of Alberta was formed and decided it needed its own university. The various accounts I have read state that Tory was appointed President in 1907. I found this rather odd since most universities in the Empire would have had either a Vice-Chancellor or Principal, following English or Scottish usage, respectively, for its chief executive position. McGill until recently had a Principal á la Glasgow and Edinburgh, before succumbing to the American and inaccurate usage of ‘President’ for the post.

There is no doubt that Tory was successful in building a new university from scratch. From his initial appointment of five academic staff in 1908 and admitting 32 students, Tory left in 1928 a university with five faculties, in modern buildings with 1,600 students.

Tory clearly regretted his appointment of Rowan almost as soon as he had made it. Indeed he went so far as to write to University College London to enquire if his degree was real, despite the fact that Rowan had continued to an MSc. The fact that Rowan did field work was anathema to Tory, which I suggest says more about Tory than it does Rowan who was equally at home with all aspects, approaches and techniques of zoology of the time.

Even when Tory had moved on to manage Canadian research funding  he continued to prevent Rowan from getting grants even though he had already obtained funding from American foundations and the Royal Society in London and his research was strongly supported by leading British zoologists of the time, Julian Huxley and James Peter Hill FRS (1873-1954) of UCL being two of them. Marianne Ainley wrote:

…Rowan submitted a major application to the NRC, but applied nowhere else. This was an error that he soon came to regret. After a decade of teaching and working under adverse conditions, Rowan must have realized that in Canada money for all but practical research was always scarce. He may not have known, however, that this was because Canadian science had been “guided by an entrepreneurial scientific ideology,” brought to this country by the original Scottish settlers.“ In the late 1920s, this “entrepreneurial ideology” still influenced the funding of Canadian science. Rowan often mentioned the lack of government money for basic biological research in his correspondence with Taverner, but, in his enthusiasm and naivety, Rowan paid no heed to the well-known fact that all the scientific departments of the federal government (the Geological Survey, Experimental Farms, and the Biological Board) had been established with practical aims in mind. In Canada, utilitarian science was supreme, and the NRC was no exception.

In early I930, Rowan joined the ranks of'Canadian scientists who continued to encounter discouragements and difficulties and even indifference to pure research. Tory’s presidency of the NRC further exacerbated the already difficult situation many scientists faced across the country, Tory was renowned as a vocal advocate of applied research, a firm believer in the usefulness of science. He was later described as a man “tended to favour the practical short-term problems that would make a noise; among the long-term projects, he favoured those with a staggering pay-off, preferably in tens of millions of dollars.” Tory’s attitude towards science exemplified the prevailing Canadian one. Unfortunately for Rowan, Tory was in a powerful position where he could prevent the funding of basic research and promote the projects of his choice, mostly those that involved applied research. A careful perusal of the list of projects funded by the NRC from I920 to 1935 shows, however, that some basic research was funded, particularly in Tory’s area, the physical sciences.

Tory also denigrated Rowan personally at this time even though it was Rowan who was putting Canada in general and the University of Alberta in particular on the map for world-famous and highly respected biological research. Ainley unearthed a letter written by Tory in 1932 and continued:

“During the last two or three years I was in Alberta I gave very little attention to Rowan due to the fact that only elementary work was done in the department” In fact, Tory’s last years in Edmonton (1925 to 1928) coincided with those of Rowan’s most intense research activity. And while Rowan carried out his early experiments during his spare time in his own backyard, nothing could long remain a secret in a small, closed, university community. Ironically, it was during this period that Rowan’s research on the effect of daylight on the reproductive organs of birds put the University of Alberta on the scientific world map. From Tory’s letter it is evident, however, that he continued to consider only laboratory work as real science, and chose to disregard Rowan’s pioneering investigations and subsequent fame. By ignoring Rowan’s ornithological research and the enthusiastic recognition given it by members of the larger scientific community, Tory could maintain that “only elementary work was done” in the university’s zoology department. For Tory, Rowan “had reached his limit” as both teacher and researcher. By taking this attitude,

Tory could with a clear conscience prevent Rowan from being funded by the NRC, and later destroy the younger.man’s chances for academic advancement.

But Tory did not finish there. He damned Rowan’s chances of getting the vacant chair of zoology at McGill. Despite glowing references from his supporters in London, Edinburgh and the USA, those responsible for the important took more notice of Tory who had been asked to provide an opinion. Ainley again:

…Tory replied: "With regard to Rowan, I find it a little difficult to write about him because I am afraid that what I have to say will not be of any great help to him in securing an appointment at McGill." Tory wrote, Rowan "got a B.Sc. from the University of London... on a semi-war basis," and informed Currie that he, Tory, had not been impressed with Rowan as a scientist, because Rowan "would not stick to the laboratory." Tory recalled he had told Rowan that "his only hope of becoming a competent zoologist and of proving his right to the headship of the department... would be by taking up some special line of work and sticking to it until he had proved his position as zoologist." Tory added, "Unless Rowan has completely changed since I knew him I would not consider him at all capable of ever organizing such a department or of drawing to it men who would be zealous for work.”

By contrast, Julian Huxley thought Rowan ‘a rare combination of fieldworker, systematist, general zoologist and experimentalist” who would make an excellent head of department.

I would argue that Ainley hit the elongated metal fastening on the cranium when she concluded that Tory was a product of the Scottish tradition. Here, I suggest, Ainley missed a trick. I suspect there were other influences at play. Tory clearly saw physics as superior in every way, as physicists so long have done, to the other pursuits that seek to explain and to exploit knowledge of the natural world. In McGill with Tory in the physics department was no other than Ernest Rutherford (1871-1937; later Lord Rutherford). It was Rutherford who is alleged to have said ‘all science is either physics or stamp collecting’. While there have been attempts to argue that Rutherford did not mean it quite like that, there is no doubt that if reflected a common view from the Age of Physics.

My view of Tory is perhaps summed by a line in Gilbert & Sullivan’s The Gondoliers, first performed in 1889.  The King of Barataria had become a  ‘Wesleyan Methodist of the most bigoted and persecuting type’.

With the tune of the Grand Inquisitor firmly fixed as an earworm, I will leave Tory and return to William Rowan himself and his biography by Marianne Gosztonyi Ainley to another article. But I least I know now how he was badly treated. 

Ainley MG. 1988. Rowan vs Tory: Conflicting views of scientific research in Canada, 1920-1935. Scientia Canadensis: Canadian Journal of the History of Science, Technology and Medicine 1, 3-21.

Ainley MG. 1993. Restless Energy. A Biography of William Rowan 1891-1957. Montreal: Véhicule Press.